


Led Astray in So Many Ways

by Fluffyllama (Llama)



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-19
Updated: 2011-12-19
Packaged: 2017-10-27 13:01:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/296127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama/pseuds/Fluffyllama
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ripper is sleeping his birthday away, but Ethan has other plans for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Led Astray in So Many Ways

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Giles birthday ficathon, for _trkkr47_. The request included homesickness, love, and a criminal act.

With the first touch of breath against his bare skin, Rupert knew it was going to be one of the good dreams. The question was only which of the good dreams it was going to be.

Rupert - no, Ripper; it was his first nickname and he didn’t see why he shouldn’t use it in dreams as well - Ripper had plenty of good dreams. They were almost always the ones where he and half-a-dozen naked men and women frolicked and played at summoning things from the nether realms. Funny how these things were always simpler in dreams than in real life - there were never any splinters in the floorboards, nobody ever made embarrassing bodily noises during the ritual sex, and nobody had ever left the almanac in their other handbag back in Cheam. They were usually rather more successful in dreams, too. Though the reason he dreamed about them so often probably had more to do with his increasingly regular partner in the aforementioned ritual sex than any desire to blank out the problematic events that inevitably cropped up.

Some time around this point, it dawned on Ripper that he was first of all thinking in a rather convoluted and non-dreamlike manner, and second that there was something rather more real and solid than usual about the dream tongue starting to run up the inside of his thigh.

“Ethan?” he said groggily, and hoped it was. The only other remote possibility was that his landlady’s chihuahua had somehow managed to sneak up the stairs again, and since the tongue was now making its way across the tenderest portions of his anatomy to considerable effect… actually, if it _was_ the damned dog he really didn’t want to find out and be obliged to stop it.

A chihuahua on the other hand, was unlikely to have the ability to suck him down like a particularly appetising lollipop and make him gasp like that. There was no mistaking that mouth, even if there wasn’t only one person who he could possibly imagine sneaking in to surprise him in such a way.

“Ethan.” He groaned it this time, and a hand joined the mouth, pumping in time with the mouth that slid up and down, up and down. He felt a rush to his head, a spasm of release in his balls and heard through the haze and remaining bedsheets an unmistakable voice saying “Happy birthday, Ripper.”

***

“Well, you certainly make more noise when there’s no audience around.” Ethan Rayne’s face smirked down at him when he opened his eyes. A dull light was trying to creep past his carefully arranged curtains and failing miserably. He peered at the clock through the gloom.

“I was asleep,” muttered Ripper, managing to inject absolutely no shame into the remark despite it being five o’clock in the afternoon. “And I don’t– Shit, we probably woke my landlady.”

“Don’t worry about the redoubtable Mrs M, she’s busy in the kitchen.” He looked up. “We’re old friends of at least five minutes standing now. We bonded over your shocking lack of drive and ambition.” His smirk grew. “Do you know, I think the mad old bat is actually baking you a cake.”

“So what? I like cake.”

“Mmm. Sweet, sticky cake, I bet.” Ethan’s tongue dipped back down to lick at stray pearly drops spattered across Ripper’s stomach. “Sweet as honey, to catch a nice,” his tongue licked lower, “juicy,” and along the tip of his now only half-flagging cock, “fly…”

“Aaahhh. Oh, that’s… what do you mean?”

Ethan pulled back and his face appeared once more above the bedclothes. “Come on, you must have seen the way she looks at you?”

Ripper could honestly say that he hadn’t. “No?”

“She never takes her eyes off your arse.”

Now there was a thought that was more than a little disturbing. “Come off it. She must be forty if she’s a day!”

“They’re the dangerous ones, believe me.” Ethan leaned closer conspiratorially. “Remind me to tell you about this forty-odd year old friend of my mum. She kept taking her clothes off in our house and this one time, when I was on my own in the house–”

“Stop, stop!” Ripper clapped his hands over his ears, just in case Ethan wasn’t winding him up. “I am never, _ever_ going to ask you about that, all right?”

“Spoilsport. Still, at least if you can’t pay your rent she might be open to alternative arrangements…”

This was going from bad to worse. Perhaps it was time to get up. Ripper swung his legs over the side of the bed, ignoring Ethan’s complaints.

“You could return the favour, you know?”

“Sod that.” Ripper pulled a fairly clean shirt on. “I need a drink.”

***

“It’s early still, why are we leaving?” Ripper hurried after Ethan’s departing back into the London night. It was early only by their recent standards, given most of even the die-hard late-night occupants of the city had given up and gone home by now. In a couple of hours there would be newspaper stands stocking up once more and streetcleaners out in force, but for now, there was not a soul in sight.

“You need distracting, and I need you to bloody well cheer up.” Ethan marched off, not waiting for him to even light his fag. Ripper gave in and stuffed it back into the packet. “You’ve already depressed half the pub - any more and I’d never dare show my face in there again. If I’d known your birthday was going to turn you into a slobbering, homesick wreck I wouldn’t have come round today at all.”

“Sorry to be such a bore.” Ripper suspected Ethan ignored the sarcasm deliberately. “But it’s quite one thing to have your parents cut you off in theory, and quite another to realise they haven’t even sent you a birthday card.”

Ethan rolled his eyes. “Frankly, I don’t know what you’re complaining about. I’ve been trying to get rid of mine for _years_ and they simply keep clinging on.”

“Yes, the monthly cheques must be a real trial.” It was a little unfair since he’d just drunk a good percentage of one of those cheques in beer himself, but Ripper didn’t see why he should be fair on _his_ birthday.

Ethan’s reply seemed rather inappropriate, even for him. “Ripper, do shut up and chuck that bench through the window, there’s a good lad.”

He looked up to see Ethan dawdling by a brightly-lit shop window. Rows of identical velvet boxes filled it from side to side, their contents glinting in the artificial glow.

“What? A jeweller’s shop? That’s not usually your style.” Ripper found himself looking around for a bench or other suitable heavy object all the same.

“Too risky as a rule, but this is a special occasion. Go on now, don’t hang about.”

Ripper shrugged and hefted a bench into battering ram position. One last look at Ethan, and at the impatient nod he swung the end into the window. It still had novelty enough to give him a thrill, and he barely noticed what Ethan was doing, caught up in the adrenaline rush amongst the splinters of glass now glittering across the street more brightly than the window display. There was an alarm ringing out from somewhere behind the shop, but it was low; quiet as if it would be rude to disturb the neighbours for a simple broken window.

There was a crunch like footsteps across freshly frozen snow, and a handful of shining chains slithered into his pocket from Ethan’s warm fingers.

“There. Rent to save your body from the evil Mrs M.”

“You’re too kind.” Ripper started walking away, since Ethan seemed satisfied with his haul. They were bound to attract attention if they ran, at least they would if anyone finally decided to take notice of that alarm. He darted a look up and down the street and strode a little faster.

“I know. And look, a birthday present.” One of the indistinguishable shiny gold rings glinted only a little less brightly under the streetlights.

Ripper wasn’t sure what to say, but eventually settled on a neutral “You shouldn’t have.” He took the ring and tried to fit it over his finger. It was far, far too small. It probably wouldn’t even fit on his little finger.

“You useless pillock, it doesn’t even fit me.” All those rings to choose from and he couldn’t have tried to find a man-sized one? “It’s probably for a girl - you should wear it.” He thrust it back at Ethan, feeling only slightly ungrateful.

“Maybe I will. Fits me just fine.” Ethan snatched it back happily and slipped it onto his left ring finger. He held it up to the light to admire it. “Oh well, it’s about time you made an honest man out of me anyway, you heartless scoundrel.” He batted his eyelashes in mock modesty.

“It’d take more than a ring to make an honest man out of you.” Ripper pulled his distressingly near-empty packet of cigarettes out and lit one to soothe his jangling nerves.

“Don’t be so rude to me, not on our wedding night.”

“Are you ever going to shut up?”

“You know what might work.”

“Yeah. Take you home and make you scream.” Despite himself, Ripper could feel a smile starting to creep across his lips. Who needed family anyway when you had money, beer and sex?

“Mmmm.” Ethan seemed to approve of that. “And you know what? Nothing says commitment like a good buggering on the drawing room table.”

Ripper spluttered on his cigarette, coughing loudly. Ethan thumped him on the back and laughed.

“Oh, come on, it’ll be fun.” He waggled his eyebrows as if to add to the temptation. “And if we make enough noise you could be out of there without having to pay the rent you owe.”

Ripper grinned at the thought, then the grin faded. “Yeah, out on the streets. Great plan, Ethan.” His cigarette was starting to warm his fingers in warning. He pinched the last inch of it tightly between his thumb and forefinger and took a long drag. Shame to waste any.

But Ethan just waved a casual hand. “Not a problem. You can stay with me - after all…” He flashed his newly beringed hand with a smirk, but nevertheless he seemed unusually… serious?

Live with Ethan? That could be dangerous. Insanity and law-breaking at every turn. He couldn’t.

And great sex on tap, he reminded himself. He dropped his cigarette end to the ground and kicked it into the gutter. “Drawing room it is then.”

Ethan relaxed and tucked his hands in his pockets. “You know it makes sense.”

A thought struck Ripper, and he suppressed a sudden smile. He took a couple more strides before he turned to Ethan with a casual swagger and no sign of amusement. “Hey, and if it works, we can always try it on your parents. Get them off your back once and for all.”

Ethan, to his credit, barely faltered in his step, and took only a couple of seconds to recover from the shock. “Steady on, old chap. One master plan at a time.”

And Ripper grinned as he led the way back to his dingy bedsit for the last time. One master plan at a time was fine by him.


End file.
